The Church Picnic
by brassband777
Summary: Weechester! The Winchesters attend a church picnic at Pastor Jim's. Cute baby Sammy and protective Dean! WARNING: contains parental spanking of a child - please do not read if this offends.


**The Church Picnic:**

**Title****: The Church Picnic**  
**Author****:** **Brassband777**  
**Characters****: John, Sammy (16 months), Dean (5), Pastor Jim.**  
**Scenario****:** **wee!chester, discipline fic**  
**Summary****:** **the Winchesters attend a church picnic while visiting Pastor Jim.**  
**Author's Notes/Warnings****: Parental spanking of a child.**

A few white fluffy clouds chased each other across the brilliant blue sky, while the bright autumn sunshine beat down on the picturesque church grounds. It was a perfect day for a picnic! John Winchester looked around in wonderment at all of the other picnicking families. It had been so long since he had done anything 'normal' like this, that he felt completely out of place. He had at first declined Pastor Jim's invitation to attend the annual Fall church picnic, but when Jim had insisted, John had found himself unable to refuse. The empathetic Pastor had quickly become a close friend and the knowledge he was steadily imparting about the supernatural realm was proving invaluable. He was helping John to find Mary's killer!

The ex-marine's attention was drawn to a young couple nearby. They were talking animatedly together – her hand resting on his thigh and his arm draped protectively around her shoulders. The woman had a chubby baby snuggled on her lap and a little girl leaned against her, playing contentedly with a doll. John felt his heart constrict – _that was how it should have been for Mary!_ She had worshiped her children and had adored being a mother. It was nearly a year since he had lost the love of his life and yet it still felt like only yesterday. The pain and grief was overwhelming. He felt tears prickling unbidden behind his eyelids and tore his glance away, looking down at his own children – the only reason for his continued existence.

Baby Sammy was sucking on his cheese sandwich. Mary had missed his first steps which had occurred only two months ago. A walking Sammy was proving to be a nightmare though, as nothing within reach was safe from the sixteen-month-old. At the moment, he was sporting a bruise and small cut on his forehead from having pulled a lamp off the bedside cabinet on top of himself. John didn't remember Dean being so much trouble, but his youngest was just so curious about everything.

He glanced at his eldest. The five-year-old was chattering away to his baby brother. Dean never seemed to get bored or agitated with the baby. He had immediately stopped playing with his toy garage and helped his father to baby-proof the apartment they were currently staying in when Sammy had first discovered that he could walk without needing to clutch hold of the furniture. He hadn't complained when his Lego had been confiscated until his brother was older, because Sammy kept putting it in his mouth and John was scared that the baby would choke. He shared his toys willingly and always went out of his way to amuse and entertain his baby sibling. Dean also helped to bathe, dress and diaper change his little brother.

On one level, John knew that this degree of devotion was unnatural, but he also knew that looking after Sammy was what had helped the small boy survive in the aftermath of his mother's macabre death. It was only recently that John had been able to finally coax the child into sleeping in his own bed again instead of sharing Sammy's crib.

"After lunch, Sammy, we're gonna play ball 'cause Daddy promised. I know you're too little to play yet, but I'll teach you when you're bigger, okay?"

The baby, having had enough, threw the rest of the uneaten sandwich onto the tartan, woollen blanket that John had borrowed from Pastor Jim. John offered Sammy a chocolate muffin instead.

"No." The baby batted at his father's big hand, trying to push it away. This was Sammy's favourite word at the moment. His first word had been "Dee", as he was as yet unable to pronounce the 'n' at the end of Dean's name, quickly followed by "Dada". In all, the baby could say about ten words and John knew that his vocabulary exceeded that of his older brother at the same age. He had no doubts that his youngest was extremely bright.

He spotted Dean eyeing the unwanted muffin hopefully, having already eaten his own.

"Would you like it, Ace?"

"Please, Daddy…..Thank you." Dean took the proffered muffin.

When they'd finished eating, John strapped Sammy into his stroller so that he could play with Dean, without having to worry about the tiny child toddling off. At first, the baby had been disgruntled and had cried. Dean had immediately said they didn't have to play ball after all and they could play with Sammy instead. John however had known just how much his eldest had been looking forward to it all day. Strangely, he had really been looking forward to it too. He couldn't remember the last time he had spent any quality time with his children. Guilt washed over him as he considered what Mary would have had to say about that.

"No, Dean, he's fine. Trust me. I really want to play ball with you. Your brother's just put out, because he's not big enough to play yet."

Sammy already knew his own mind and John wasn't looking forward to when the terrible twos finally hit, as he had a feeling that Sammy's tantrums would be spectacular. He placed Sam's pacifier in his mouth and handed the child his sippy cup and stuffed bunny.

Dean trusted his Dad implicitly, so if his father said that Sammy was okay, then he believed him. He leaned over and planted a kiss on the baby's cheek.

"You can watch, okay Sammy?"

The baby held up his arms in the universal gesture indicating he wanted to be picked up, pulling against the unyielding harness. "Dee…" he spoke around his soother, the word sounding muffled.

"Not yet, Sammy, I'll get you out soon….when we've finished, I promise."

Half an hour later, John flopped back down on the picnic blanket, a genuine smile lighting up his careworn features. Seeing Dean looking so carefree and happy tugged at his heartstrings. The small boy's green eyes were shining with delight. They had at first played catch and then moved on to kicking the ball around. Dean's exuberant laughter had been like music from Heaven to John's ears.

"That was great, Daddy. Can we play again tomorrow?"

Seeing the impact of just giving a little of his time and undivided attention to the youngster, gave the novice hunter the determination to do better and be a better father where his boys were concerned. He knew that he had been all-consumed by his desire for revenge on whatever had taken his beloved Mary from him, but she was gone and his children were still here and they needed him.

John glanced over at Dean who was busy unfastening the straps of the stroller to free his younger brother. His heart melted as he listened to what Dean was saying to the baby.

"That was fun, Sammy. I'm really sorry you couldn't join in. Just wait 'til you're old enough and then you can play too. Our Daddy's the bestest daddy in the whole, wide world."

The baby toddled over to John and climbed into his lap.

"Hello, Baby Boy." John's arm slid automatically around the tiny body and he dropped an affectionate kiss on the top of his head.

Sam looked expectantly at his big brother. "Bwocks."

"You wanna play with your blocks, Sammy? Okay then…." Dean rummaged in Sam's changing bag and extricated a set of sponge blocks with letters and numbers printed on the side.

John watched fondly as his sons built a tall tower with the bricks and which Sam invariably knocked down. On purpose. Then they began the process all over again. Each time the blocks fell, Sam's delighted, explosive giggles warmed John's heart. He looked up to see Pastor Jim approaching.

"Dean, watch Sammy, will you? I need to talk to Pastor Jim. You're to stay right here, okay?"

The five-year-old nodded solemnly. His Daddy didn't need to ask him to look after his baby brother, because Dean was a _big brother_ and that's what big brothers did.

John set his baby down on the blanket and moved to meet the Pastor. What he wanted to discuss wasn't suitable for tiny ears and he didn't want to risk Dean overhearing.

Sammy grew tired of playing with his blocks and pushed himself up into a standing position. He swayed for a moment, finding his balance and then began to toddle off in the direction of the rectory.

"Come back, Sammy," instructed Dean, "Daddy said we had to stay here."

The baby paused and looked back at him giggling, before setting off again. Dean sighed and stood up to retrieve his brother. He quickly reached Sam's side and hoisted the baby up under his armpits and carried the wriggling child back to the blanket. As soon as Dean had set him down, the baby once again stood up and toddled off. This was repeated six times in a row. Sammy evidently thought this was a great game, but Dean did not! His baby brother was heavy. He had tried leading the child back by the hand, but Sammy had resisted that by flopping onto the floor and going completely limp, so Dean had had to carry him back each time.

After the seventh attempt to escape, Dean dumped his brother back down on the blanket and ran quickly to tell Daddy that Sammy kept running off. He tugged on John's sleeve.

"Daddy…"

John cut him off. He and Pastor Jim had been talking about a demon that had said something about Mary's death before it had been exorcised – definitely not something he wanted a five-year-old to hear! "Dean, I told you to stay over there," he reminded sternly.

"But, Daddy…"

"Now, Dean, scoot!" John propelled the small boy in the right direction with a gentle swat to his backside.

Dean would have tried again, except when he glanced back at Sam to check that he was all right, he discovered that the baby wasn't where he had left him. He looked frantically around. In the time it had taken Dean to go to their father, the baby had managed to toddle a considerable distance and was busy poking at a tree stump. As Dean ran towards his baby brother as fast as his little legs would carry him, he saw Sammy take something off the side of the stump and pop it into his mouth.

"Spit it out, Sammy!" Dean reached his brother's side and turned the child around to face him.

"No," said Sammy.

Dean forced his fingers into the baby's mouth, hoping that his brother wouldn't bite him. He felt something hard and rough and yanking it out, he found it to be a large piece of bark.

Dean shook his head. "You can't eat that, Sammy, it's not food."

The baby pointed ahead to the duck-pond, two dimples appearing as if by magic when he smiled. "Dee, go?"

"No, Sammy. When Daddy comes back, I'll ask him to take you. Now come on." Dean took Sam's chubby hand in his own and tried to pull the child back the way they had come.

"No." The baby planted his feet and resisted. "Go!"

Dean tried to copy his Dad's stern voice and mannerism. "No, Sammy! You're being naughty!" Whenever John used his stern voice to tell Sammy 'no', the baby's face would crumple and he would burst into tears, but whenever Dean said it, he might as well have been talking to the wall for all the effect it had. This time was no different – Sammy tried to pull away from his big brother in the direction of the duck-pond. With an exasperated sigh, Dean stooped again and lifted his squirming, wriggling, complaining baby brother and carried him once more back to their picnic spot. This time he pulled Sam into his lap and held him there, knowing that if he let go, his baby brother would simply take off once more.

Sam was stubborn and continued to struggle against his brother's hold. Dean's arms were getting tired. His gaze fell upon Sam's stroller and a solution came to him.

"Okay, Sammy, if you won't be good you'll have to go back in here."

Dean lifted the squirming baby into the stroller and fumbled with the harness.

"No, Dee!" The sixteen-month-old batted at his brother ineffectually, trying to push himself back out of the seat.

The five-year-old soon discovered to his dismay that he didn't have the strength or co-ordination to prevent his little brother from wriggling out of the stroller _and_ fasten the straps at the same time. He could do one or the other, but not both at the same time. He needed Daddy's help.

Once more he ran to his father's side and tugged on his sleeve.

"Daddy, can you please…"

John swung around to look at his eldest. He was utterly distracted, his mind was in a total whirl after talking to Jim. _Maybe this time the information was genuine and he finally had a lead on what had killed Mary!_

"Not now, Dean!" he barked, "Me and Pastor Jim are having a grown-up conversation."

"But…" began Dean, only to be sharply interrupted once more.

"I told you to stay over there with Sammy! Now do as you're told unless you want a sore bottom."

Dean glanced helplessly back up at his father, desperate to explain, but John had already turned back to Pastor Jim, not even considering for one second that his eldest wouldn't comply with his order. The small boy glanced back at the now empty stroller. _Where was Sammy?_

Dean immediately left his father's side and ran back, quickly scanning the area. His baby brother was nowhere in sight. Sammy was so little, that if anyone was in front of him, he would be completely blocked from Dean's view. Remembering the duck-pond that the baby had wanted to go to, Dean panicked – Mommy and Daddy had told him that little children should never go near deep water, because they could drown and die. Dean had already lost Mommy to the angels and he couldn't bear the thought of Sammy going to live with them too! _But was his baby brother clever enough to remember which direction the pond was in?_ Dean was certain that he was. He took off himself in that direction.

Sure enough, Dean caught sight of his baby brother toddling up ahead – he had nearly reached the edge of the pond. Dean looked around frantically hoping that an adult would be nearby to help, but the immediate area around the pool of water was unfortunately empty of picnickers.

"Sammy, stop!" he called urgently, "It's dangerous, you…" The rest of what Dean was going to say was cut off as the small boy tripped over a tree root at the edge of the path and fell flat on his face. Pain jarred through both knees and the palms of both hands as they came in sharp contact with the coarse gravel. Tears of pain filled the bright green eyes, but Dean blinked them back. He wanted nothing more than for his Dad to come and kiss his boo boos better, but he had to save Sammy! Scrambling to his feet, Dean was relieved to note that his baby brother had halted at the very edge and was busy babbling unintelligibly to the ducks that were crowding around, hoping to be fed. He had to get there before Sam moved and fell in!

John stood, digesting what he had heard, before casting a casual glance back at their picnic blanket. The next moment, he straightened and checked the immediate surrounding area – Dean and Sammy were nowhere to be seen!

"What is it, John?" asked Jim, catching the change in expression on his new friend's face.

"The boys," replied John automatically, quickly raising his eyes and scanning further afield, "dammit, I told Dean to stay put!" All thoughts of demons and revenge had vanished, his thoughts now focussed solely on locating his missing children.

With all of the happy families and children milling around, John knew it would be hard to pick out Sam and Dean amidst the crowd. _These were all supposedly Christian people right?_ So his boys should be safe, though Dean apparently needed a reminder that when John said to do something, he meant it. Suddenly, he spotted two familiar figures near the duck-pond. Immediately he broke into a run, his heart in his mouth – his baby boy was going to fall in, he was standing right on the edge! Keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the terrifying drama in front of him, he was relieved to see Dean grab the baby around his waist and haul him backwards.

A minute later, John reached his boys. The horror of what could have happened flooding his mind. He and Mary had taught Dean about how dangerous water could be as soon as he had been old enough to understand, but the little boy had blatantly disregarded what he had been told.

Dean glanced up, relieved to see his Dad. Maybe he would listen and strap naughty Sammy in his stroller now? "Daddy…."

John cut off his young son. "What were you thinking, Dean?" His voice was loud and harsh as a result of the fear he had felt. _Sammy could have drowned!_

Dean was still holding tightly to his baby brother's waist and Sammy was struggling against the restraint, eager to get closer to the ducks. At John's incensed, raised tone, the sixteen-month-old burst into tears. He scooped both sons up, carrying Dean on one hip and wailing Sammy on the other, back towards their picnic blanket. Dean was troubled by his father's tone. Daddy was obviously very angry, but he didn't understand why. He opened his mouth to ask, but his Dad bellowed again, inadvertently answering his unspoken question.

"I _told_ you to stay on the blanket and you deliberately disobeyed me!"

"But, Daddy…." Dean wanted to explain about baby Sammy running off. At least he knew why his Dad was angry now though. Since his Mommy had gone to live in Heaven with the angels, Daddy had become very strict about following 'orders' and doing as you were told.

"Are you trying to tell me you didn't disobey?" John's tone was stern, unyielding.

The five-year-old shook his head. "No, but…."

John again interrupted, "When I tell you to do something, Dean Winchester, I expect you to do it!"

John had arrived back at their picnic spot by now and after depositing the crying baby in a startled Jim's arms with a muttered, "Can you watch him for a minute?", he seated himself on the blanket and lifted Dean face-down over his outstretched knees.

The small boy knew of only one thing that occurred in this particular position and it wasn't pleasant! _But Daddy wouldn't do that!_ Dean was certain, because he hadn't done anything wrong. He had only been watching out for Sammy as he was always told to.

The next moment, John's hard hand crashed down onto his eldest's buttocks.

"Nooooo, Daddy!" Dean tried to get off his father's knee, but John held him firmly in place and continued landing painful, stinging swats to the wriggling tiny bottom in front of him.

_Why was Daddy doing this? It wasn't fair! _"Daddy, you mustn't," pleaded the small boy.

"Oh, I think I must, Dean. You didn't do as you were told and naughty boys need to be spanked."

"But…" sniffled the five-year-old as the first tears started to fall. _Daddy's hand hurt so much!_

"No excuses, Dean. When we make a mistake we own up to it and accept our punishment."

John shifted his legs and moved his spanks to the boy's sensitive undercurve. He knew he was being hard on his eldest and that he was giving a harsh spanking to the child, but his disobedience could have gotten his baby brother killed and John wasn't prepared to have that happen again.

Dean gave up trying to explain. _Daddy wasn't going to listen_. He dropped his head and began to sob in earnest, as much from a sense of betrayal _– Daddy wasn't supposed to let him down_ - as the steadily increasing painful burn in his backside.

"Your choice could have gotten Sammy seriously hurt," John scolded, "I've told you before how dangerous water can be! You know you're not supposed to go anywhere near it without an adult."

Determined to make the lesson stick and to ensure that Dean would most definitely obey next time, John took hold of the elasticated waist of the boys jeans and pulled them down. He quickly followed these with his Tom and Jerry underwear. Seeing how red and sore Dean's bottom already looked, John had to force himself to deliver the last few swats to the scorched bare skin. He quickly administered three swats to the rounded part of his buttocks and two to his sit-spots. The five-year-old jerked reflexively as each one landed.

John gently pulled up the sobbing child's underwear and jeans and gathered him into his arms, but instead of melting against him as he usually did, Dean remained stiff in the embrace.

"Hush, it's okay now, Ace," John tried to soothe his boy by rubbing a tender hand up and down his spine. Dean was crying so hard that he couldn't catch his breath.

Pastor Jim had watched the scene of father and son unfolding before him with compassion, while jiggling the baby in his arms in an unsuccessful attempt to get him to quieten down. His heart went out to the small family. To have suffered such a loss had completely broken the man before him and he could only imagine the impact of losing his mother on the young child. Only the babe in his arms had escaped that devastating bereavement and yet, considering the path that the grieving father had chosen, it would undoubtedly shape the lives of both young boys.

Jim wasn't against the spanking of children when it was deserved and in this instance, seeing how John's eldest had disobeyed his father's instruction, he supposed that Dean did deserve what he had been given. At times like this, he was glad he wasn't a father. Jim knew how much John Winchester loved his children and yet he'd been the one to have to reduce his own child to a sobbing, hysterical wreck. Jim would like the sunny, loving fun-filled part of parenthood, but didn't think he could handle the discipline side of things. Jim idly wondered if the baby was wailing in sympathy for his big brother's plight, as the tears showed no indication of ceasing.

When after five minutes, Dean had still not begun to calm down, John was becoming concerned. Dean had never reacted to a spanking like this before – he usually craved comfort afterwards. At one point, the small boy had moved his arms and John had fully expected them to slide around his neck as usual, but the child had merely reached back to rub his thoroughly abused bottom. John had continued his whispered reassurances and to stroke the boys back. He had also tenderly rocked him, but none of it had any effect.

"Shh, Deano, everything's okay. What can Daddy do to make it all better?"

"I w-w-want, S-sammy," wailed Dean, raising his tear-filled eyes to the squirming, crying baby in Pastor Jim's arms.

Jim cast a questioning glance at John and when his friend nodded, he set the baby down carefully on the ground. John released Dean from his embrace and watched worriedly as his eldest stumbled over to Sammy and flung his arms around him. At this point, John was glad of anything that would bring his five-year-old comfort. He also had no doubt that Dean would be able to calm the disgruntled baby quicker than he would, even in his own distressed state. The way his youngest responded to his eldest never ceased to amaze him.

Dean hugged the sobbing baby tightly. He already had sore knees and hands from falling down and now he had an incredibly sore bottom as well. He felt totally miserable. _How could Daddy do that?_

"H-hush, Sammy," he hiccupped, moving one hand to stroke through the baby's fine, wispy hair. Dean remembered his Mommy doing that to him when he was upset and he had found out that it worked on his baby brother too. As Sam's cries subsided slightly, Dean reached into the nearby changing bag and pulled out Sam's pacifier and placed it in his mouth. The baby accepted the soother and began to suck on it, before resting his head against Dean's stomach.

"Big b-brother's gotcha. Don't c-cry, Sammy." Dean continued to soothe, never ceasing the stroking through his little brother's soft hair.

John was relieved to note that as his baby calmed, so did his big boy. A sudden thought struck him – _maybe Dean was so upset, because he had insinuated that Dean had nearly gotten his little brother hurt?_ He knew how seriously Dean took his responsibility of looking out for Sammy.

John knelt down beside his boys. "I know you'd never hurt Sammy on purpose, Ace," he said gently, "You're a fantastic big brother. You do a great job looking after him. You don't need to worry, I'm not mad anymore, son. Everything's forgiven and forgotten. Okay, Deano?"

Dean nodded, but kept looking at his feet, refusing to meet his father's eyes. "Yeah, Daddy," he replied quietly.

**Supernatural ~ Supernatural ~ Supernatural ~ Supernatural ~**

Pastor Jim insisted on giving Sammy his bath before bed. Seeing as he would never have any children of his own, he enjoyed temporary experiences of parenthood by spending time with the children of close friends whenever he could.

John sat on the sofa and contemplated Dean, who was sitting on the floor surrounded by toys, with concern. He wasn't playing. There was definitely something up with the boy. At suppertime, he had hardly eaten a thing, just spent the time pushing the food around on his plate and that wasn't like Dean! In fact, he had been extremely quiet and subdued ever since the picnic. John had worried that maybe the child was coming down with something, but when he had felt his forehead, it had been cool and fever-free.

Pastor Jim appeared in the doorway, grinning. "I've put the little tyke in has crib as you requested. He's already half asleep, bless him."

John nodded. "Thanks, Jim."

He scooped Dean up into his arms, as he did every night, so that they could tuck Sammy in together. John frowned as the little boy immediately stiffened in his arms, although he didn't actively resist.

"Are you okay, Ace?" he asked gently. The five-year-old merely nodded in response.

On entering the make-shift nursery that his children slept in whenever they stayed at Pastor Jim's, he lifted Dean over the bars of the crib, so that he could kiss his baby brother goodnight.

"Night, Sammy," whispered Dean, planting a kiss on his chubby cheek.

"Dee," murmured the baby sleepily around the pacifier which was firmly fixed in his mouth, "Dada."

"Goodnight, Baby. Sweet Dreams," John kissed his youngest gently on his forehead, before making sure the covers were tucked in tightly around him.

Instead of returning downstairs, he carried Dean into the bedroom that he was currently using and put the boy down carefully on the bed.

"Okay, Ace, I want you to tell me what's bothering you. I can't fix it if I don't know what it is."

Dean didn't answer, he just stared down at his hands in his lap, so John placed gentle fingers under his chin and tilted his head up, forcing the child to meet his searching gaze. Dean's green eyes were swimming with unshed tears.

"I love you, Dean. You can tell me anything, anything at all. What's wrong, kiddo?"

"You sp-spanked me." One of Dean's tears escaped and trickled slowly down his cheek. The others quickly followed.

John wasn't sure what response he had been expecting, but it certainly wasn't that. "I spanked you because you were naughty, Dean."

The child shook his head vehemently.

"You don't think you were naughty?" questioned John quietly. He had assumed that Dean had known why he'd been spanked. "You didn't do as you were told, kiddo, which was disobedient, so you deserved a spanking."

Dean turned his head away with a broken sob. "No, D-daddy, you don't l-listen."

John was puzzled. He also couldn't bear to see his child so upset. "Okay, Dean, I'm listening now. Tell me what you want to and I promise I won't interrupt until you're finished."

Haltingly, Dean recounted the events of the picnic and John listened with growing horror. _What kind of parent was he?_

"I'm so so sorry, Dean. I should have listened to you and I definitely shouldn't have spanked you. I was wrong. Will you forgive me?"

Dean raised his now tearstained face to look at his father in bewilderment. _Daddy was asking Dean to forgive him? _

John itched to take the boy into his arms and comfort him, but after the damage he had already caused today, he didn't want to press and waited on tenterhooks for his son's reaction.

Dean felt better now that he was certain that his Dad knew that he hadn't messed up looking after Sammy after all. The young boy had felt awful thinking that his Dad was disappointed in him unfairly. His father had also admitted that Dean had been right and he'd been wrong. The five-year-old looked at his Dad's face and seeing the sadness and regret written there, he threw himself into the strong, waiting arms and buried his head in his shoulder.

"Course I forgive you, Daddy," came the muffled response, as Dean's face was pressed into the security and warmth of John's shirt.

John hugged back tightly and dropped a kiss on the top of his head. "I love you, Dean."

"I love you more, Daddy!"

John chuckled. "That's impossible, kiddo. Now I've punished you unfairly, so next time you deserve a spanking, I'm going to let you off with a stern telling off. Does that sound fair?"

"Really?" Dean raised his head, meeting his father's affectionate gaze. He grinned mischievously. "So I can do something naughty on purpose and get away with it?"

John found himself grinning. "I think I'm going to regret this, but yeah, that's exactly what I mean. Now come on you little monkey, Pastor Jim will be wondering where we are."

When his Dad stood up from the bed, Dean unconsciously raised his arms, wanting to be carried. John immediately scooped the small boy up and held him tightly. Dean's stomach rumbled loudly and the five-year-old giggled.

"I think someone who didn't eat their supper needs feeding," teased John, ruffling Dean's hair with his free hand as he began making his way downstairs.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, Dean?"

"Can I have one of those chocolate muffins?"


End file.
